Finding Hermione
by NaomiMiller
Summary: It's six months after the end of the Second War and Hermione still can't get past what happened to her. She's on a downward spiral and there's only one place she can go to try and get her life back-The Burrow.
1. The Realization

**A/N: Apologies for the short chapters. I write everything by hand before I type it up, so it appears longer at first to me. For those of you who may recognize this, it's also posted on my HarryPotterFanFiction account. DISCLAIMER: Anything, one, or place you may recognize belongs solely to JK Rowling. I own nothing!**

Chapter 1: The Realization

Six months. It was hard to believe it was six months of peaceful, ordinary days since the defeat of Voldermort and the end of the Second War. Well, peaceful and ordinary for everyone else maybe, but Hermione Granger a member of the famed Golden Trio, was still trying to put the pieces of her life back in order.

Harry seemed to be doing alright as he and Ginny moved in together and planned their wedding for next year. She was to be the maid-of-honor for her best girlfriend.

Ron was busy with Quidditch practice as tryouts for the professional teams drew closer with the end of summer. In his last letter he told her that he was staying with Oliver Wood for a couple of weeks to some practice in and get some tips from the former Gryffindor captain turned successful professional.

For Hermione though she had seemed to have hit a slump. At least the night terrors hadn't come last night. They always seemed to go away whenever she brought someone home with her. Her latest choice was still currently snoring beside her. She had met him last night at the bar of the Leaky Cauldron at Diagon Alley. He had been smooth, suave, sophisticated, and completely obvious about what he wanted. Not wanting to spend the night alone with her fears and slightly intoxicated, Hermione had been more than happy to oblige him.

Now, as she looked at him in the sober light of day, she really wished she hadn't. He was much older than she realized and had a greasy, sleazebag air about him that she found repulsive. Suddenly feeling the need to take a shower, Hermione slipped quickly from the bed and dashed to the bathroom, pausing only long enough to grab a change of clothes. Shutting the door behind her, she locked it and cast a Muffliato charm in case she started screaming or sobbing, whichever was the order of the day. Her neighbors already thought she was strange enough with her half-healed scars and bruises. Most of them were Muggles and had no idea what she had been through.

Hermione turned on the shower and then looked at herself in the mirror. She hardly recognized herself anymore. She had lost some weight while hunting down the Horcruxes and defeating Voldermort with Harry and Ron, but once everything was done and she had moved into her new apartment, she lost even more weight as she suffered from flashbacks and night terrors. Her eyes had dark bags under them and her eyes themselves were a dull, muddy brown instead of the rich, chocolate brown color they used to be. She lost her appetite for food and hardly ate some days.

"I've lost my appetite for life," she said quietly to her reflection as the mirror began to fog over. Hermione sighed and reached for the shower curtain. She involuntarily flinched as she caught sight of the angry, red scar on the inside of her forearm. Here was the main cause for all the turmoil in her life. While she knew her friends had been through a lot during the course of the war, none of them had been tortured under the Cruciatus curse as Bellatix Lestrange carved hateful slurs into their flesh. Even now, she could hear her own screams reverberating in her head. Hermione clenched her eyes shut against the memory and hastily got in the shower.

"I need to get out of here," she thought aloud, "I need to get out of my head."

As she let the hot water run over her and washed away the traces of last night Hermione knew there was only one possible place to go. The one place that she had always felt at home and the one place she realized she needed now more than anything. That place was the Burrow.

**A/N: SO, what did you think? **


	2. The Burrow

**DISCLAIMER: Just the usual, I own asbsolutely nothing you may recognize. Alas, it all belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling.**

Chapter 2: The Burrow

When Hermione got out of the shower she was relieved to find that her companion from last night had disappeared without a trace. That saved any awkward farewells and she really hadn't wanted to see him again.

Still thinking about her plan from earlier Hermione reached for quill and paper and scratched out a brief note to the Weasley family, asking if she could come stay for a while. Once she was finished Hermione walked out into the living room and called her barn owl, Greg down from his perch by the window. She fastened the note securely to his leg and gave him instructions on where to go before sending him winging his way from London to the Burrow. Hermione watched the bird until she couldn't see him anymore and then curled up in her favorite armchair to await the reply.

G.

George Weasley was sitting at the dining table with Ron at the Burrow. Ron, as Harry's best man, was responsible for planning the bachelor's party and had enlisted his prankster brother's help. He knew George liked nothing better than a good party and he hoped planning for the wedding would bring his brother out of the depression he had been in after his twin's death in the battle at Hogwarts. They were on the subject of entertainment when a tawny barn owl flew in the open window to land on the table.

"That's Hermione's owl," Ron said as George untied the letter from the bird's leg. Mrs. Weasley came in from the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron.

"How's the plan-oh, who's the owl from?" she broke off noticing the bird preening himself on the table.

"Hermione, she wants to know if she can come and stay for a while?" George said handing the note to his mother, who took it and scanned its contents.

"Of course she can, I don't know why she thought she had to ask. She's practically family," Molly Weasley said, "It'll be good to see her again, she hardly comes by anymore. George dear, would send a reply? I'm still putting lunch together."

"Course Mum," he said moving to the writing desk in the sitting, retrieving quill and paper.  
He sat back down at the table and scribbled out a reply. He carefully folded the note and tied it to Hermione's owl before sending the bird on his way. George watched the bird go with a trace of some forgotten emotion that he finally labeled as happiness. It had been awhile since he had felt that. As the owl disappeared from sight he turned back to Ron and they continued on with the planning.

H.

Hermione had just choked down a meager lunch of half a turkey sandwich and a glass of water when an owl tapped on the window behind her. Turning, she spotted Greg perched on the sill looking in at her expectantly. Hermione let the bird in and set a bowl of water before him. Settling back into her chair at the island, she opened the Weasley's reply.

_Hermione,_

_ We'd be delighted to have you as Mum would say, she's busy so I'm writing this letter instead. She says you don't have to ask to come over by the way since you're practically considered family. I know Ginny's been wanting to talk to you later as well. Look forward to seeing you soon. It's been too long Granger._

_ George_

Hermione put down the letter and walked into her bedroom. She wondered how George was doing, dealing with the loss of Fred. All of the Weasleys were mourning of course, but George had taken the death of his twin the hardest. It would be good to see them all again she thought, wandering to her closet and trying to figure out what to pack. She started randomly pulling things from the shelves and hangers and stuffing them into her beaded bag that she had charmed a year or so ago with an Undetectable Extension Charm. She went through the kitchen and banished all the perishable food and the garbage. Satisfied that everything was in order, Hermione gave Greg instructions to go back to the Burrow after he had rested and then Disapparated.

With an audible "pop", Hermione Apparated at the edge of the field that surrounded the Burrow. The warmth of the sun was a bit of a shock after being in her chilly apartment. She turned and looked at the crazily stacked house that the Weasleys called home. Six levels leaned and twisted every which way. Hermione was always amazed that it never just spontaneously toppled over. Shaking her head, she trudged over to the house and stepped in the front door.

"Hello?" she called tentatively as she stepped inside. A loud crash preceded Mrs. Weasley as she came hurrying out of the kitchen to give Hermione a bone-crushing hug.

"Hermione dear, it's so good to see you," she said once she had released her.

"It's good to see you again too, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said once she was certain it was still possible to breathe. Mrs. Weasley held her out at arm's length to get a good look at her.

"You haven't been eating properly dear, you're too thin. And those clothes you are wearing are not very flattering," the woman remarked. Hermione glanced down and saw she was still wearing the sweatpants and oversized t-shirt that she had put on this morning.

"Sorry, I kind of just dropped everything and came when I got your owl. I really needed to come here," Hermione confided to the only motherly figure she had in her life now after she had used the Obliviate spell on her parents to save them. Ron and George came out into the hall to see what all the fuss was about.

Ron came forward to give her a hug, "I was beginning to think you had forgotten about us." After their kiss in the Room of Requirements at the battle of Hogwarts they had both mutually decided that they were better off as friends. As far as Hermione knew he was too focused on Quidditch right now to really date anyone.

"I could never forget you guys," she said as he released her and George came forward and gave her a gentle hug as if he was afraid she might break, which in her current state was a very likely possibility. George was still tall and lanky and when he released her she thought that his head looked slightly lopsided with one ear missing. His normally cheerful, mischievous air was subdued in mourning.

"It's good to see you again Hermione," he said.

"Thanks guys, I've missed you all over these last couple of months. Where is everyone?" she said looking around. The Weasley house was normally bustling with activity, but right now it was abnormally quiet.

"Ginny's out doing some wedding stuff with Harry, Charlie's still in Romania with the dragon project there, Bill and Fleur are at Gringott's, and Arthur and Percy are at the Ministry," Mrs. Weasley said, taking Hermione by the shoulders and steering her towards the stairs. "Why don't you go on up to Ginny's room dear and put on some fresh clothes? Lunch will be ready in a couple of minutes."

"Alright, thanks Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, "By the way, Greg should be coming sometime soon if you could keep an eye out for him?"

"Of course dear," the woman said. Hermione nodded and headed upstairs.

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Let me know what you think.**


	3. The Plan

**DISCLAIMER: Any thing, one, or place you may recognize I do not own. It all belongs to JK Rowling.**

Chapter 3: The Plan

George had been shocked when he saw Hermione. She was so thin and exhausted. Of course, the last he had seen her wasn't much comparison since it had been after the final battle at Hogwarts. Even still, the girl was a mere shadow of the Hermione he had known before. After she had disappeared up to Ginny's room, he and Ron had returned to discussions of the party, but George's mind just wasn't on the topic anymore.

As Ron prattled on about arrangement, George thought back to the moment that he had realized he had fallen in love with Hermione Granger. He and Fred had just started the joke shop after leaving Hogwarts. It was just before term started and all the students were coming in to stock up on Skiving Snackboxes or Nose-Bleed Nugats or some other products for the semester. The Weasley's had come in with Harry and Hermione in tow. As George was moving amongst the shoppers he had spotted Hermione examining the love potions that were on display.

"Got someone special in mind for that 'Mione?" he asked her as he came over to the display.

Her cheeks flushed pink and she hastily put the vial that she was holding back. "No, I was just looking." Something about her reaction made George realize something that he had been feeling for a while now. Hermione Granger was no longer just one of his younger brother's friends and fellow Gryffindor; she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

The Hermione Granger who had walked through his family's front door a few minutes ago was not the smart, confident, wonderful witch that he remembered and fell in love with. She was a shattered image. George recognized a similar, but different hurt to his in her dull, haunted eyes. She had lost someone in the war, but instead of losing a sibling and best friend like he had, she had lost her self. As his mother called that lunch was ready George decided that he would make it his mission to help her find it again.

**H.**

Hermione reached Ginny's room on the third floor and sat on the extra bed that was pushed up against one wall. She set her bag down beside her as she gazed around the room that was as familiar to her as her own back home. There were the posters of famous Female Quidditch players and family photos posted on the walls. The bed was rumpled and clothes were hanging out of the wardrobe. Papers and parchment were haphazardly strewn across the writing desk crammed in one corner. Hermione shook her head at her friend. Between Ginny and Harry, Hermione cringed to think what their house must look like.

Pushing aside her thoughts she turned and rifled through her bag, pulling out a light, long-sleeved pale green shirt, a faded pair of jeans, and a battered pair of Converse that had literally been through a war and back. Hermione changed her clothes and made an honest attempt at taming her hair into a pony tail before she headed back downstairs.

The other three were already at the table when she came back down. Hermione took the empty seat next to George and surveyed the spread on the table before her. Even for just the four of them, Mrs. Weasley had put out enough sandwiches to feed a small army. Although as Hermione watched Ron and George put them way, she found herself wondering if there would be enough after all. She had forgotten how much the boys ate. She sat there and idly nibbled at half a sandwich while she listened to the conversation going back and forth around the table.

"So Hermione, what have you been up to lately?" George said turning the conversation over to her.

"Uh, not much of interest really. I've got a job at Flourish and Blotts. I like it pretty well."

"Course you do, it's books," Ron interjected around a mouthful of sandwich.

"Honestly Ron, how many times have I told you not to talk with your mouthful," Mrs. Weasley scolded her son.

He swallowed, "Sorry mum."

"I've got my own apartment," Hermione continued. "It's a few blocks from the show, but it's in Muggle London. Other than that I'm afraid there's not much to tell," she finished, eating the last bite of the sandwich.

"What about you George? How's the shop coming along?" Hermione asked wanting to direct the conversation away from her.

A shadow passed over his face before he answered, "Business is pretty brisk, especially with the school year starting up. I expect we'll be giving Filch a run for his money again this year." There was a ghost of a smile on his face, but none of the gleeful enthusiasm he used to show whenever he mentioned Hogwart's strict, rule-loving caretaker. Hermione also wondered at the use of we, but didn't pursue the topic.

"I'm glad to hear it," she said, but it sounded forced to her ears. When had just making simple small talk become so difficult? She had never been great at it, but now it was just awful. She really needed to sort out her life.

"I think I'm going to go outside for a while, if you all don't mind. It's such a nice day out today," Hermione said surprising herself. She hardly ever went outside anymore except when she had to, but she had the strongest urge just to go and sit in the sun.

"Of course dear, just watch out for the gnomes in the garden, they've taken to wandering out in the fields on occasion," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Mum, I'm sure that Hermione can handle a couple of gnomes without even thinking about it," Ron said around another mouthful of food. Hermione gave him a brief smile as his mother turned and glared at him. She excused herself from the table and headed out the kitchen door.

**A/N: You know the drill, read and review. They are much appreciated!**


	4. The Confession

**DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING. It all belongs to JK Rowling.**

**Chapter 4: The Confession**

**H.**

The warmth of the sun immediately enveloped Hermione, its embrace feeling like a long forgotten friend. As she headed for the edge of the field the sounds of birdsong drifted to her on a gentle breeze. For the first time since the battle Hermione felt herself beginning to relax. She could feel the tension ease from her shoulders as she headed for a place where she knew there was a particularly lovely shade tree that grew next to a good-sized pond. Once she was there, Hermione kicked off her shoes and rolled up her pants legs before sitting on the bank beneath the tree and putting her feet in the cool water. Hermione leaned back on her elbows and tilted her face up to the sky. Yes, this place was exactly what she needed.

**G.**

George watched Hermione leave the kitchen thinking that the pale green color of her shirt suited her, even if the long-sleeves were rather impractical for the warm weather outside. She had been rather quiet since she had come down to join them for lunch. He had tried to bring her into the conversation, but that hadn't turned out very well. She had given a minimal answer and then deflected the conversation back to him. He still flinched at his use of we when she had asked him about the shop. While it was technically true that there was a "we" with his hiring of Seamus Finnegan in addition to Verity, their original assistant, it wasn't the same "we" as when it had been him and Fred. George made himself push these thoughts aside for now though. He was supposed to be helping Hermione.

He stretched and stood from his seat at the table, "I think I might go take a stroll around the grounds myself. Take a break from all this planning for a wedding that's still a year away." Ron looked up at him about to protest. George held up a hand to cut him off. "I don't mind helping, but I really do need a break."

"Alright," Ron grumbled looking unhappy at leaving the plans unfinished. George ruffled his younger brother's hair before heading out the door.

Once he was outside, George didn't see any sign of Hermione. He was wondering where he might start looking for her when something Ron had said about Hermione's favorite places answered the question for him. He headed off for the pond that was in one of the fields towards the back of the house.

Sure enough, when he reached the pond there was she was, leaning back on her elbows, face tilted towards the sun, and feet in the water. George caught his breath at the sight of her. She was beautiful with her sleeves pushed up above her elbows, jeans rolled up to her knees, and her unruly hair falling unhindered down her back. She looked so peaceful and relaxed.

"Thought I might find you out here," he said going over and sitting on the grass next to her. Hermione started and looked over at him.

"I didn't hear you coming," she said looking over at him, "What are you doing here anyways? I thought you were helping Ron with party plans?"

"I was but I needed to get me some fresh air and I knew you were out here so I thought I would see if you wanted some company."

She seemed to think it over a moment before shrugging, "Sure, why not. How is the wedding planning going anyways?"

"I thought you were the Maid of Honor? Aren't you supposed to know more about the wedding than the bride herself?" George said looking at her in surprise.

Hermione gave him a guilty look, "I'm afraid I'm a rather poor Maid of Honor. Although Ginny seems to have it mostly under control."

"That she does, although the wedding's still nearly a year away so I don't know why she's making such a big fuss over it."

"I think it's a girl thing," Hermione explained to him. "Most girls dream about their weddings from childhood. There's something almost mystical about it."

"Mystifying is more like it," George quipped. Hermione gave a quick smile before looking out over the pond. George almost didn't see it, the smile was so quick, but it was there.

"You know what I think?" he said to her getting an idea.

She looked over at him, "What?"

"I think you need to get up and come with me," he said getting to his feet and offering her a hand.

She hesitated, "Go with you where?"

"You'll see, don't you trust me?" George said looking down at her. Hermione crooked an eyebrow at him.

"Trust you, one of the Masters of Pranks?"

"Which is exactly why you should trust me. You need to start letting your hair down Granger, and who knows more about that than I do? Where's your sense of adventure?"

She gazed at him for a moment before giving in and taking his hand. He gave an involuntary gasp as he pulled her to her feet.

**H.**

Hermione flinched when George gasped. Without thinking about it, she had taken his hand with her left hand, exposing her scar for him to see. She tried to pull her hand free of his, but his grip was like iron as he turned her arm over and pushed her sleeve up farther.

"Hermione," he breathed tracing the fingers of his free hand over the word, "Who did this to you?"

She shook her head in answer to his question. Hermione had never told anyone outside of Harry and Ron who had been there, about what had happened to her at Malfoy Manor and even those two didn't know the whole story. She didn't want to burden anyone else with her troubles and she especially didn't want to relive those memories. George had more than enough troubles without her adding to them.

"Hermione please, you can tell me."

She looked up and met his gentle brown eyes. There was something there that told her it was time to tell someone about what had happened. It had been bottled up inside her too long. Hermione looked down at where he still held her hand and took a deep, steadying breath.

"Bellatrix did this to me. It happened when Harry, Ron, and I were being held at Malfoy Manor. She was supposedly trying to get information out of me, but I suspect she did it mostly for sport," Hermione shuddered at the memory. "She tortured me under the Cruciatus curse and carved _that_ into my flesh as a permanent reminder of what I am." Now she came to the part of her story that she not even Harry and Ron knew about. "I can remember wishing that I was dead, praying that I she would kill me. It was the most horrible, terrifying, excruciating thing I've ever been through and I just felt so helpless and worthless." Hermione was on the verge of tears by the time she finished and she could feel herself trembling from head to toe. It had been hard to admit everything, but she had to confess that she felt better now that she had let it out into the open.

Her thoughts were interrupted though by George suddenly pulling her to him in a tight embrace.

"Hermione, you have to be one of the bravest people I have ever met," he said resting his chin on top of her head. "To go through what you have and still be able to function reasonably well, is quite extraordinary." His words warmed her as she slipped her arms around him and inhaled his fresh, clean scent. There was something comforting about that smell and the feeling of his strong arms around her. Hermione caught herself wondering at these strange thoughts as he pulled away.

"Alright Granger, after that admission, you really have to come with me," he said taking her hand before she could reply and leading her back towards the house. When Hermione saw where they were going she felt her heart drop into her stomach, _Great._

**A/N: Alright, I know, I know, but I still have to ask. Pretty please review. I want to know what you think.**


	5. The Beginning

**A/N: Quite frankly this is one of my favorite chapters so far. I really enjoyed writing this one. DISCLAIMER: Any thing, one, or, place you may recognize belongs to JK Rowling.**

Chapter 5: The Beginning

The Weasley's Quidditch pitch was perched on a hill to one side of the house. A shed containing all their brooms and equipment sat at one end of the pitch and a section of makeshift seating was placed at the other end. It was towards the equipment shed that George was leading her.

"George no, you know I'm terrible at flying. I can't even get the broom off the ground," Hermione protested, trying to break free of him. It was impossible though, his grip was like iron.

"I know, which is why I'm going to go with you."

Hermione continued to protest all the way to the shed. What she hadn't told George was that the last time she had been flying was to escape from a Fiend Fire creature created by Crabbe, one of Draco's cronies, in the Room of requirement. Quite frankly, the flying had terrified her more than the fiery monster pursuing them.

George literally dragged her into the shed and began pulling out brooms and pads.

"George stop it!" Hermione finally yelled, exasperated with the tall red head. "I don't want to go flying!"

He paused in what he was doing and turned to look at her.

"What was that Granger?" he asked pointing at the spot where his ear was missing. "My hearing isn't quite as good as it used to be. It sounded like you said that you wanted to go flying." He gave her an impish smile. This was the joking George Weasley that she was used to.

"I know you can hear perfectly well out of that ear," she retorted, planting her fists on her hips. "I do not. Want. To fly," she told him, enunciating each word carefully to get her point across. George let his shoulders sag in defeat.

"Alright fine," he said in a tone that reminded her of a child that had just been chastised. She didn't have much time to linger on that thought however, since George took that moment to hook an arm around her waist and toss her over his shoulder while his free hand grabbed a Nimbus 2000 from the rack. Hermione screeched in alarm, pounding her fists into her captor's back, but he didn't pay the slightest attention to her.

**G.**

"George put me down! Put me down right now!" she shrieked.

He pretended not to hear her despite the fact that her voice could have rivaled a banshee's at the moment. Instead, he settled himself on the broom, put Hermione down behind him and kicked off from the ground, quickly gaining altitude. The moment their feet had left the ground Hermione had latched her arms in a vice grip around his waist.

"Hermione, can't breathe," he wheezed over his shoulder.

"Good," she shot back, "Now get me off this bloody broom!" She may have been angry at him, but her grip did loosen enough that he could breathe easier.

"Really Granger, language," he said. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this happy. Her only response was a glare that could've frozen everything within a ten kilometer radius.

"Alright fine, I'll set us down," he finally caved.

"Really?" George could hear the skepticism in her tone. He guessed he had proven earlier as to why exactly you should never trust a Weasley twin. Well, if you're in for a penny, you might as well be in for a pound as Fred would have said.

"Really, but we're going down my way."

Hermione shifted to look at him over his shoulder, "Your way? What's you-"

George cut her off by going into a barrel roll before shooting straight up into the air. He could feel Hermione's arms tighten against as they reached the top of their climb. He stopped and took in the view, giving Hermione a chance to unwrap herself enough that she could see it as well.

"This isn't exactly down," she pointed out, glancing at the ground that was a long ways beneath them.

"Really?" George looked around him in mock astonishment, "I had no idea. I thought the ground was getting farther away." Hermione smacked him. He simply ignored it, continuing, "You have to admit that the view from up here is much better than down there." Indeed it was with its rolling hills of farmland and forests. A shining, silver, ribbon of water meandered its way through the patchwork.

"It is beautiful ," Hermione agreed after a long moment as she took the scenery in.

"Views like this are one of my favorite things about flying." Hermione was silent for a moment before replying.

"You know what my favorite part of flying is?" she asked him.

"What?"

"Landing."

George chuckled, the girl was persistent he'd give her that.

"Okay, this time I swear we'll be landing."

"We better or else I'll hex you from here to China," she warned in a serious tone.

"Yes ma'am," he said. He knew for a fact that Hermione was a witch who could, and would, carry out her threats.

"Thank you," she breathed in relief.

"Don't thank me yet Granger," he said before pitching the broom into a steep dive.

Hermione screamed, holding onto George for dear life. George grinned as he pulled up just short of the ground. He settled them on the ground and as soon as her feet touched the dirt Hermione flung herself off the broom.

"George Weasley, if you _ever_ try a stunt like that again, I will not hesitate to hex you!" she exclaimed before storming off towards the house, brushing past Mrs. Weasley who had come out to find the source of all the yelling.

"George what did you do?" his mother said turning to him with an expression that the Weasley children had learned to fear over the years.

"Nothing mum, just having a bit of fun, trying to get Hermione to lighten up a little," he said with a shrug.

"From the way she was screaming it sounded more like you were trying to kill the poor girl," Mrs. Weasley said dryly. "I know you want to help her, but maybe next time you could try a little more subtle way than terrifying her half to death."

George looked down at his feet, chastised, "Yes mum."

Mrs. Weasley regarded her son for a long moment before heading back into the house. George smiled as he went back to the equipment shed to stow the broom. He had gotten Hermione Granger riled. He had forgotten how beautiful she was when she was angry. Her anger was also an encouraging sign that she wasn't completely gone. The old Hermione Granger that he had fallen in love with was still in there somewhere. That was a good start. Now to start finding that Hermione.

**A/N: So what did you think? Leave a review in that nifty box down there.**


	6. The Chair by the Fire

**A/N: A completely Hermione chapter for you! Back to the serious stuff again though. Sorry. DISCLAIMER: Any thing, one, or place you may recognize belongs solely to JK Rowling. I own nothing.**

**Chapter 6: The Chair by the Fire**

That night Hermione lay in the spare bed in Ginny's rom, mulling over the day's event. Ginny, who had arrived with Harry in time for dinner, was snoring loudly from the other side of the room. The girl could rattle the windows some nights.

Hermione, on the other hand, couldn't sleep. Insomnia had been an unwelcome side effect of the night terrors. She was scared to sleep. Every time she shut her eyes she relived the horrors of the war as if they were just now happening. Her mind also kept turning over the conversation and broom ride with George that afternoon. Finally giving up on sleep entirely, she tossed aside the quilt and quietly left the room.

She headed downstairs to the kitchen where she made herself a cup of cocoa. With her cup of comfort in her hand, Hermione went to the cozy living room of the Burrow where she promptly set a fire in the hearth and curled up in one of the oversized armchairs that she swore could swallow a person whole. Her hands wrapped around the mug, Hermione tucked her feet beneath her and stared into the crackling flames as she let her thoughts wander.

George had surprised her earlier when he had sought her out by the pond. She had caught him watching her earlier over lunch, but she hadn't accounted it to anything more than the concern everyone else was showing her. Now though, she wasn't so certain.

She had found him surprisingly easy to talk to. There was something kind in those blue eyes and his honest face that made her open up to him. He was a good listener too. He didn't interrupt, judge, or try to offer advice. He just listened. It was hard to find a good listener and she needed that more than anything else. Someone that could listen to her talk and hear her tears. Someone that could listen to her silence and hear her screams.

There was something else about him though. Things she had only started noticing about the third youngest Weasley recently. The way his arms had felt around her by the pond, arms she had caught herself admiring many times. The way his blue eyes would twinkle, especially when he and Fred were up to no good with one of their pranks. That easy smile of his. He was rather handsome now that she went back and thought about it.

He was also Ron's older brother. While they had both decided after their kiss that they were better off as just friends Hermione suspected that Ron may still harbor some residual feelings for her. She knew from experience that he could become quite the overprotective, jealous type.

She couldn't help but think of George though as her mind continuously replayed the evening, refusing to be redirected. Hermione had to admit, it was the best time she had had while sober in a while. It had been terrifying being up on the broom with George, but it was a kind of exhilarating terror that made you feel alive. Of course, she was still angry with him for that stunt, but she was willing to be forgiving. It was hard to be angry at that boy for any extended period of time.

She also had to admit that today was the closest to his normal self that she had seen him since Fred's death at the Battle of Hogwarts. That was the George Weasley she had known and loved since her fifth year when they had started really talking at DA meetings. He was really quite a genius and very handsome and quite funny. What more could a girl ask for? If there was anyone Hermione could count on for a laugh it was George.

After he and Fred left Hogwarts though, Hermione had shelved her feelings as she figured that he would find someone better than her and Voldermort's increasing power left little room to think of such things anyways. As she helped Harry and Ron fight Voldermort and his supporters, George became more and more distant in her mind. Her memories of him and anything else happy pretty well disappeared after her ordeal with Bellatrix at Malfoy Manor. After something like that she felt like she would never be happy again. It was like having a dementor hovering over you every minute of the day. Hermione sometimes caught herself wondering if she even deserved to be happy. She knew it was a stupid thing to think of course she should be happy, but she just never seemed to be able to convince herself of that though. If she started to feel that way she always seemed to find a way to bring herself down. It was a highly self-destructive tendency of hers.

For instance the more she thought about her favorite redhead, the more she realized there was no way he could possibly reciprocate her feelings. He was funny and handsome and a few years older. To him she was probably nothing more than his younger brother's best mate. He dated girls who were pretty, enjoyed sports, and the life of the party. She was a bushy headed bookworm no one paid attention to most days. There was no chance in hell that he would ever take a second look at her. No, it was better to keep these thoughts and feelings to herself. She would leave them on the shelf where they had a place.

Hermione sighed and shifted to place her now empty mug on the table beside her chair. She settled farther down into the chair as she stared morosely into the fire. Why is life so complicated, she wondered to herself before falling into a dreamless sleep.

**A/N: Don't forget to read and review!**


	7. The Empty Bed

**A/N: And now a completely George chapter for you. TISSUE WARNING! I was nearly in tears whilst writing parts of this chapter. You have been warned. DISCLAIMER: Any thing, one, or place you may recognize belongs solely to JK Rowling. I claim nothing. **

**Chapter 7: The Empty Bed **

Hermione wasn't the only one having trouble finding sleep that night. George lay awake in the room he used to share with Fred. He was on his back staring at the ceiling. He figured that it was better lying there awake anyways rather than giving into sleep in which he was constantly tortured with images of Fred.

He rolled over on his side and gazed over at the empty bed in the room. Fred's bed. The bed that no one would ever fill again. It was exactly the same as it had always been, with the pillows askew and the sheets a tangled mess. The bed frame was a chipped and scarred memorial to their early prank testing days before they opened the shop. George could match the dents and dings with the different events they originated from.

The bed started to look like a water color painting (some Muggle art form that Hermione had told him about once) as his vision blurred with tears.

"Fred, I miss you so damn much," he whispered to the empty bed. "Some days I just don't know what to do with myself. I feel like someone's torn me in half and I don't know how to put myself back together again. I'm here and you're not and it just isn't right." By now the tears were flowing unchecked down the sides of his face.

"I wish you were here. I know you would have some clever plan up your sleeve for getting Hermione back to her old self. She's so sad and different, not at all like the girl I would drive you nuts with what with me talking about her all the time. You would know exactly what to say to give me the courage to tell her how I feel too. I want to tell her so much, but I'm terrified of rejection. I wish you could've seen her on the broom. I know you would've gotten a kick out of it."

George paused as a shaky breath passed his lips, "Merlin I wish you were here."

George rolled back over to face the ceiling. He wiped his eyes and took a few calming breaths. Deciding he wasn't going to get any sleep in this room with its memories and empty bed, George got out of bed, grabbed his pillow and a blanket and headed downstairs.

When he arrived downstairs he was startled to find that there was someone else down here. Usually everyone else was asleep by this time. As he moved closer he realized that the person curled up in one of the armchairs was Hermione and she was, in fact, asleep. George debated going back upstairs so he wouldn't disturb her, but decided against it thinking that a warm fire and a sleeping Hermione were a much better alternative to a dark room and an empty bed.

He dropped is pillow and blanket on the large sofa then conjured a second blanket, which he draped over the still sleeping Hermione. As he did this he noticed the empty mug sitting next to the chair, the last dregs of cocoa sitting in the bottom. George smiled, a cup of hot cocoa was one of his favorite nighttime remedies. Apparently, it was Hermione's as well. George looked down at the girl in the chair and wondered what it was that kept her awake at night because judging from the dark circles under her eyes, she didn't get much sleep these days. The fire and the cocoa too were clues. They were comforts he himself had often sought at late hours when memories of Fred's death plagued him.

George reached down and tucked an errant strand of hair back behind her ear. She looked so peaceful and relaxed for the first time in a while. Even in the years leading up to the war she had never really been relaxed. _Of course,_ George thought, _that was probably an unfortunate side effect of being best friends with the Chosen One and having fought off Voldermort or some other evil at least once a year since you were eleven_.

George shook his head as he went and arranged himself on the couch. The girl had done things he couldn't even begin to imagine and yet she was still here and still his Hermione. She was the one bright spot in his thoughts.

As he lay there watching her, George thought back to what she had told him earlier out by the pond about Bellatrix and Malfoy Manor. He began to get an impression of what had made her become the quiet, reclusive witch she was now. That just wasn't the kind of thing that you could walk away from and still have the same life you used to. That was the kind of thing that permanently changed a person. It was also the kind of thing that made George love her even more. To go through something like that and still be able to go on living day to day and have most of your sanity was a testament to just how strong she really was.

George also remembered the way it had felt holding her so close today after she had confessed about Bellatrix. She had fit so perfectly against him with her head tucked under his chin and her arms holding on to him. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Not to mention the time on the broom with her rib-cracking grip and her face buried in his shirt.

Merlin he was in trouble. He was no-kidding-around, head-over-heels for the bushy-haired, brilliant witch asleep in front of him. He had harbored these feelings for three years now and he wished he could get up the courage to tell her, but he was so certain of her rejection that he couldn't. He just could not bear the thought of alienating Hermione that way. Besides she deserved someone better to lover her and take care of her. Someone who wasn't as messed up as he was and without the emotional baggage he came with at the moment. Yes, it was better to maintain a simple friendship than to ruin it with these feelings. He once again wished that Fred were here. He always knew the right thing to say or do to cheer George up, like giving him a smack upside the head and telling him to go out and tell her already. George sighed and settled into a more comfortable position on the sofa.

_Some Gryffindor I am,_ he thought as he took one last look at Hermione's sleeping face. _I can't even tell the girl that I've fancied for the last three years that I love her, or face an empty bed._ With these last thoughts in mind, George let the elusive cloak of sleep overtake him.

**A/N: Please tell me what you think. I haven't written on this story in some time and I'm kind of stuck. Don't let it die!**


	8. Diagon Alley

_** A/N: You have no idea how excited I am about finally being able to update this story for the first time in six months. Ahhh! DISCLAIMER: Any thing, one, or place you may recognize belongs solely to JK Rowling. Enjoy! **_

**H.**

When Hermione awoke the next morning it took her a moment to remember where she was. The colors and warmth were rather different from her flat back in London; even the sun shining through the living room windows seemed brighter and more golden.

A movement from the couch interrupted her musings. Hermione turned her head to see a sleeping George. He stirred and rolled over on his stomach before he resumed gently snoring again. Hermione watched him sleeping, wondering what had brought him down here. Seeing him reminded her that she was at the Burrow.

Hermione stretched leisurely, hearing all the pops and cracks of her joints as she unfolded herself from the chair she had fallen asleep in. Sounds coming from the kitchen alerted Hermione to the fact that she wasn't the only one up in the household. Hermione levered herself up out of the chair and went to investigate. She found Mrs. Weasley already bustling around the Burrow's cluttered kitchen.

"Good morning dear! Just in time for breakfast. Arthur and Ron should be down in just a moment," Mrs. Weasley greeted her when she walked in.

"Should I get George up?" Hermione asked looking over her shoulder back towards the living room.

Mrs. Weasley glanced over at the couch and shook her head. "He's been getting so little sleep ever since…" she trailed off, her eyes misting over as she turned away to look out the window. _Ever since Fred died_, Hermione finished silently.

"I thought I would just save him some breakfast for when he got up," Mrs. Weasley said brushing her fingers over her eyes hastily. Hermione nodded and took a seat at the table, chatting with Mrs. Weasley as the rest of the family slowly emerged for breakfast.

**G.**

George awoke from a rare night of dreamless sleep to find himself staring down his arm at the wood floor of the Burrow's living room. He had the vaguest recollection of wandering down here in the middle of the night and thinking about a certain bushy-haired witch before zonking out.

He rolled over onto his back and scrubbed at his face with both hands. That was one of the best nights of sleep he'd had in ages.

"It's about time you woke up," a voice said from his left, startling George. He looked over to see Ginny sitting in Hermione's vacated chair.

"Oh?"

"Verity and Seamus have already sent over three owls begging for you to come in to the shop today. Apparently they're completely swamped with customers."

"But it's only, what, Tuesday?" George guessed propping himself up on one elbow. His brain was still lingering in the fog of sleep. Ginny just shook her head at him like he was a lost cause.

"What?"

"Nothing, other than it's Thursday, and the Thursday before term at Hogwarts starts at that," she told him with a grin.

George tossed aside his blankets and bolted upright. "Bloody hell, I promised them I would be in this weekend."

Ginny just continued to grin at him, "The I would suggest that you might want to get properly dressed." George merely glared at his sister before marching back upstairs to his room to change.

Once he was presentable, he headed downstairs to see what he could scarf down quickly for breakfast. Apparating on an empty stomach was not a pleasant experience.

When he got to the kitchen, he found Hermione, Ginny, Harry, and his mother there. Ginny and Harry were in deep conversation with Mrs. Weasley about some of the wedding plans. Hermione was listening in, hands cupped around a mug of tea. Today she wore her hair in a messy bun, with a few curly tendrils, brushing her shoulders. Her black skinny jeans were tucked into a pair of sky blue converse that matched the loose peasant top blouse she was wearing. She looked stunning. Everyone looked up as he entered.

"Oh good, you're up and headed to the shop I see," Mrs. Weasley commented from where she was supervising the dishes.

"Yes, Ginny told me they're fairly desperate for my aid today and I did promise them that I would be in this weekend," he said swiping a still warm biscuit from the counter and stuffing it in his mouth.

"So you'll be staying at your flat then?"

"I will, not sure when the next time I'll be by will be. The beginning of term is always insane," George muttered around a mouthful of biscuit, having the sense enough to at least look contrite underneath his mother's withering gaze. She had taught her children manners and she expected them to use them.

"Are you headed to Diagon Alley?" Hermione asked him.

George swallowed the last bit of biscuit before answering. "I am."

"Mind if I tag along? I have some things I need to take care of at work."

George felt himself grinning, but he couldn't help it as a plan had begun to develop in his head. "Of course I don't mind."

Hermione gave him a smile, "Okay hang on just a minute. I need to grab my bag." George nodded and she dashed up the stairs. True to her word she appeared downstairs a little over thirty seconds later, bag in hand.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready." They bid goodbye to Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and Harry before walking out past the picket fence to apparate to Diagon Alley.

**H,**

When they got to Diagon Alley Hermione was thrust into pandemonium. They had apparated right into the middle of the people thronging Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Sorry!" George yelled leaning close to be heard. "I meant to apparate us into the back office." He pointed to a door about 20 feet from them.

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that it was alright, but at that moment Seamus appeared out of the masses and grabbed George by the arm as if to prevent him from running away.

"Weasley! It's about time you showed up. We've been swamped since we opened this morning," he yelled. "Oh, hey Hermione," he added when he noticed her standing there.

"Hi Seamus."

George turned to Hermione, "I guess I'll catch you later, duty calls." Hermione waved him on before Seamus pulled his arm off.

"Go on, I'll see you later." George was pulled into the crowds, leaving Hermione to push her way through to the door.

She remembered coming here in the early days of Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Fred and George had been so happy, seeing their dream come true. The shop certainly hadn't changed much since then. It was still a jumble of semi-organized chaos. The only change was the laughing portrait of Fred overseeing everything with that characteristic devilish grin of his. It wasn't like having Fred there, but it was helped ease the pain of the void.

Hermione reached the doors and turned back to look into the store. The last she saw of George, he was demonstrating the use of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder to a sandy-haired boy from Hufflepuff who looked to be in his third year. George looked almost like his normal self again, doing what he loved. His former energy was more subdued and his smile might not have been quite as wide, but George was still there, moving on, living his life. Hermione smiled sadly as she stepped out of the shop. If only she could do the same.

Diagon Alley was slowly starting to recover from the aftermath of the wars. Many of the shops that had been vacated and destroyed were now filled and bustling with customers. As Hermione walked through the crowds towards Flourish and Blotts, she noted one shop in particular that was open which made her pause in surprise.

Ollivander's Wand Shop had been a fixture of Diagon Alley for as long as anyone could remember, probably longer. Ollivander's had been one of the first and most shocking acts of destruction in the area. Voldermort had kidnapped the elderly wand maker and destroyed his shop. Mr. Ollivander had been held prisoner at Malfoy Manor where he was tortured for information on the Elder Wand, whose owner would become the most powerful wizard in the world. When Hermione and the others had been taken to the manor, the wand maker had been in bad shape. The last she had heard, Mr. Ollivander was still recovering at Shell Cottage. Deciding that the bookshop could live without her for another few moments, Hermione headed towards the shop to investigate.

When she stepped inside, the front counter was crammed with first years getting their first wands. Hermione put a hand in her pocket, feeling the familiar shape of her own wand resting there. Except for the absence of the layers of dust that had once blanketed everything and some better lighting, the shop looked exactly the same as it had seven and a half years ago when she had first set foot in Ollivander's after having just learned that she was a witch. That seemed like a completely different lifetime ago, like a completely different Hermione.

Mr. Ollivander was perched on a rolling stool that he pushed back and forth along the counter to deal with customers. Hermione stood off to the side and looked around, wondering how he managed the store on his own. Suddenly she noticed a familiar blonde mass of curls moving through the shelves in back. Sure enough, Luna Lovegood rolled down one of the shelves on a ladder, slamming to a stop at the end.

"Here you are Mr. Ollivander," she announced in her strange, dreamy voice, handing down one of the slender wand boxes.

The man looked around at her, taking the box. "Ah, thank you Luna." He turned back to the young girl he was helping. The girl was so excited that had it not been for her father's hand resting on her shoulder, she probably would have been levitating.

"Here we are. 12 ¾ inches, cedar, phoenix feather core, slightly flexible," Mr. Ollivander declared, taking the wand out of the box and examining it with practiced fingers.

"Try giving this one a go." He handed the wand to the girl who grabbed it from him, clutching it like it was the most precious object in the world. Almost as soon as she touched the wood, Mr. Ollivander smiled. Another wand had found its witch. Luna caught Hermione's eye as she emerged from the shelves again and they shared a smile as they remembered getting their own wands. After another twenty minutes, all of the customers had finally left and Hermione was able to get to the counter.

"Miss Granger," Mr. Ollivander said upon seeing her. "I thought I saw you lurking back there in the corner. It's good to see you again."

"You as well sir, but should you be working already?"

"The healers at St. Mungo's said I could go back to work so long as I took it easy. Quite frankly I think they were just ready to be rid of me, although I'm still not up to my usual standards yet. Ms. Lovegood here is the main reason that I was able to open so soon. I'll leave you too to catch up. It's time for me to take my medicine." The elderly man grabbed a cane from where it was leaning against the wall and rose from the stool with assistance from Luna.

"Good to see you again Ms. Granger," he said once more before hobbling his way to the office in the back.

Hermione turned back to Luna who had sat on the now vacant stool. Her curly, pale blonde hair was pulled back away from her face, displaying her famous radish earrings. As usual her wand was tucked behind her ear. Hermione had always wondered how she kept it balanced there.

"How have you been Luna?"

"Pretty good all things considered. Mr. Ollivander's taken me on as his apprentice. It's absolutely fascinating work Hermione, trying to figure out the exact combination of materials to make a wand. It's quite complex."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at her friend, "His apprentice?"

Luna's smile faded a little, "yes, Mr. Ollivander's son didn't really have any interest in wand making and even if he had he was killed in the war battling some of Voldemort's followers in France. When I started working here to help him out while trying to find a job he noticed I had aptitude for the wands and started teaching me, giving me a permanent job in the process. What about you Hermione? How are you?"

Hermione shrugged, "I'm okay. I'm working at Flourish and Blotts at the moment. I was actually on the way there when I saw that the shop was open and I thought I'd stop in and see Mr. Ollivander. I'm glad I did. It's good to see Luna. It's been awhile."

Luna smiled that peculiar dreamy smile of hers, "It really has been a while. We'll have to have lunch together sometime and really catch up."

Hermione smiled, "Sounds wonderful. I'm afraid I really do have to run though." The two girls embraced before Hermione headed back into the chaotic crowds.

When she reached the bookstore, she was alarmed to find it almost completely packed with people. Her colleagues were running around looking completely harried. Mr. Scott, her boss, spotted her from where he was trapped between an elderly witch and a display of magical history books.

"Hermione, thank Merlin you're here!" he shouted at her. "Think you can jump in and lend a hand?"

"No problem Mr. Scott, let me just dump my things off." The look of complete relief on his face almost made her laugh as she fought her way through the crowds towards the back of the shop. Hermione deposited her belongings in the office and pinned on her nametag before heading back out front. She was immediately accosted by a flustered fourth year Slytherin who couldn't find the required textbook for her Charms class. Soon Hermione was so swept up in her work that she forgot everything else for a while.

**G.**

George was finally able to take a breather around noon when people started trickling out in search of lunch. He leaned on the counter planting his elbows and forearms on top of the wood. He watched Seamus and Verity finish up with some of the last minute customers before they closed up shop for lunch.

Verity had been a goldmine of a find. She had come in one day towards the end of their first year in business looking to get a gag gift for her brother's birthday. Somehow they had gotten on the subject of the chaos of running the shop and making the products. They learned that she was an office gopher in the Ministry of Magic and was desperately sick of her job and of how all her bosses had their heads in the sand about Voldemort's return.

Fred and George had excused themselves for a minute and briefly talked it over, agreeing that they really needed an extra set of hands around the place. They offered the petite redhead the job and she took it without hesitation, walking into the Ministry later that afternoon and informing her boss that she quit. She had been at the shop ever since.

Her organizational skills had turned the shop from a tangled and jumbled mess of chaos into an organized and methodical mess of chaos. She picked things up quickly and by the end of her second week she knew the products so well it was as if she had made them herself. This combined with her cheerful personality and excellent customer service skills had allowed Fred and Georg to work on experiments on slow days, leaving her in charge of the shop.

George remembered being amused when it first became apparent that his brother and their assistant had liked each other, but neither of them realized it despite the fact that it was as plain as day to everyone else. When they had finally gotten together everyone's reaction was that it was about time. He had never seen his twin so happy before. When he told George that he was going to propose to her, showing him the ring he had chosen, George had teased him that between his and Verity's red hair their children were going to be born with their heads on fire.

Then the war came and all that was put on hold-permanently. Fred never proposed to Verity. After the funeral George had given her the ring, explaining everything. She wore it on a chain around her neck and George often caught her fiddling with it as she gazed sadly at the portrait on the wall. So many dreams and possibilities had been wiped out with the war.

As he thought about the war and everything that had been lost he found his thoughts wandering to Hermione. He hadn't seen her since this morning and wondered if she was still at the bookshop. Verity and Seamus had ushered out the last of the customers out of the shop and Verity hung the "Out for Lunch" sign in the window. This gave George an idea.

"Why don't' you two take an extended lunch today? I've got some errands to take care of," George told them.

"Sure, thanks George," Verity said grabbing her coat.

"Sounds good to me," Seamus agreed. The two left the shop, chatting amiably about their weekend plans. George shrugged on his own coat and locked the door behind him before heading to Flourish & Blotts.

When he got there he found the bookshop still had a pretty steady stream of customers. He finally spotted the familiar bushy hair he was looking for on the other side of the shop, standing on a ladder and levitating books back into their places on their shelves. George smiled, remembering that it was that spell that had brought the Golden Trio together in the first place. He picked his way across the shop and looked up at her.

"Have you had lunch yet Granger?" The sound of his voice startled her so much that she lost her concentration and would've dropped a copy of advanced potions on his head had he not snatched it out of the air before it hit him.

"George! You startled me," she exclaimed once she spotted him.

"That's no reason to attempt to bludgeon me with a book."

"I'm not the one sneaking up on people. What did you ask me?"

"I came to see if you've had lunch yet? You work too much for your own good."

Hermione shook her head, "No, I'm afraid we've been so busy that I haven't had the time to even think about lunch, much less eat it."

"Well make the time;  
I'm taking you out to lunch." Seeing her hesitate he added, "No arguments Hermione, you're coming."

"Alright, let me grab my things," she conceded, climbing down the ladder. George helped her down the last few rungs, his hand lingering at the small of her back for a moment before he followed her to the back. Along the way she paused to talk to someone, to let him know she was leaving. George guessed this to be her boss. She grabbed her coat and turned to George, motioning for him to lead the way.

"So where are we going?" she asked him as they left the shop.

"It's a surprise. You're going to have to trust me again."

Hermione surprised him by taking his hand as they walked, lacing her fingers through his. "I trust you."

_**A/N: I don't about you, but I personally love this ending. What do you think? More to come soon. ~Naomi**_


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